


Snapdragon

by FireEye



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: An anniversary show ofThe Labyrinthdrags Sarah right back into the thick of it.





	Snapdragon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kereia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/gifts).



She walked a forgotten path, one that had worn away to a bare few stones that marked the way forward.  Scraggly, blackened trees clawed at the darkened night overhead, as though they could steal the stars from the sky.

The moon was rising on the distant horizon.  It had been a sliver of light at first, peeking over the hill.  The further she walked, the higher it climbed – until it sat full over the entire world, eclipsing the sky.

But something was wrong.

Or maybe not _wrong_.  At least, something was _different_.  Something had _changed_.

There should have been a castle there, on the distant horizon.

She couldn’t remember how-...

A shadow swept over her.

Sarah opened her eyes.

Kicking her blankets off, she sat up, and pushed her fingers through her hair.  A few long breaths as she gathered her thoughts, and she clicked the nightstand light on, then pulled out the drawer.  A brief bit of rummaging, she found her pen and-...

...she sighed.

It should have been there.

“Where did I put it?” she asked the empty room.

Sliding her legs over the edge of the bed, Sarah pushed herself to her feet.  She padded through to the hall in the dark, not bothering with the lights.  The fingers of night grasped at her as she passed the windows, but the moon was half-full outside and was more than enough to see by. 

She came to her study, and stopped two steps past the door.

There was someone reclining comfortably at her desk.  A figure, cloaked in shadow.

Sarah blinked, and it was gone.  Her eyes narrowed, and she cast about the room for an answer, but...

...there was no sign that anyone – or anything – had been there.

Shaking her head, she scoffed at herself; she was hardly one to jump at shadows.

Padding to the desk, she clicked the lamp on.  Sinking down into her chair, she regarded the desk.  There were a couple of notebooks she had left out, but neither were the one she was looking for.  She glanced quickly under them first, then checked the drawers, one after the other, until she came up with a cloth-bound journal.

Flipping it open, she skimmed through the pages.  The latter entries started to snare her attention, and she slowed, but she didn’t stop until she reached the final entry.  Her eyes flicked back and forth as she read back the script of the last few paragraphs.

Finally, she turned to the fresh page.  Finding another pen, she dated the page and started writing.  The world she could only see in her mind’s eye flowed onto the page, elaborate as her hazy waking memory could relay it.  Once she had finished, she set the pen aside and sighed.

Biting her lip, she flipped back to the prior entry.  Then to the one before that.

Sarah rarely ever dreamed.

When she did dream, she dreamed of the Labyrinth.  When she dreamed of the Labyrinth, the dream was different every time.

The clock on the wall chimed, and Sarah started.  She blinked at it, then at the entry she’d been raptly attuned to reading.

Setting aside the journal, she set to tidying away the rest of her desk.

And paused.

Her worn copy of Labyrinth sat peacefully, half hidden under one of the notebooks she’d pushed aside.

All at once, Sarah struggled to remember why it was here.  Had she taken it out?  She certainly hadn’t been reading it, not recently.  She’d all but memorized it once....

She dropped it in the middle drawer.  Pushing the drawer closed, she picked up her journal.

Clicking the light off again, she started back towards her bedroom.  Shadows clung to her as she walked past the windows, slithering down along the floor, but she paid them little mind.

The dream journal back where it belonged in the end table drawer, Sarah closed her eyes and slumped back down onto the bed.  She relished the soft, sinking sensation of her mattress welcoming her back to its realm of slumber.

Blindly, she reached to click the nightstand light off again.

A soft fluttering brushed the glass outside the window.  A dappled sliver of moonlight through the whispering leaves found her once more sound asleep.

***

The doorbell rang, followed by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.  Sarah didn’t even look up from the pizza toppings she was slicing, but smiled as Toby dashed through the apartment and into the kitchen, jingling as he went.  He sidled up for a perfunctory hug, then went to rifle through the mail on the counter.

“It’s on the table,” she told him.

The envelope itself was nondescript, but the graceful silver handwriting and artistic choice of stamp gave it an elegant flair.  Clutching it to his chest, Toby pulled the flap open and dug around for the tickets inside. Finding them, he beamed.

His costume was a patchwork, made up scarves and flamboyantly-patterned mismatches of cloth.  A trio of bells hung from his cap, jingle-jangling whenever he moved.  He’d evidently had some hand in its design, and Sarah wondered if he’d made it entirely himself.  Despite his mother’s best efforts, he’d idolized Sarah’s eccentricities growing up, and enough of her fanciful dreams had rubbed off on him that it showed.

She finished sprinkled the toppings onto the pizza, and set it in the oven.  Toby inched back up to her as she was toweling off her hands, repeatedly shuffling the tickets one over the other in his hands.

“I wanna get there early,” he said.

“We have plenty of time.”

“Yeah, but I wanna get good seats.”

“They’re already good seats,” she assured him.  “It’s assigned seating.  And I promised Dad I’d make sure you ate supper, first.”

Toby pouted, following her along as she strolled casually into the study.  There, he watched closely as she retrieved a book from her desk.

“Here,” she offered it to him.  “Maybe you can go and rehearse while the pizza cooks, huh?”

His pout split into a grin at the title, and, taking it along with the tickets, Toby rushed off to find a comfy couch on which to read.

***

It was opening night, decked out and with no expense spared, to kick off a nation-wide anniversary tour.  The first three nights before the show moved venues had swiftly sold out, but Sarah’s mother had the starring role.  Knowing the production had been in the works for a year, and with the perfect connections, Sarah had secured her choice of seating well in advance.

Columns in the lobby were wound with ivy, and a mockup suggesting blue skies and hedge mazes ornamented the walls and ceiling, and stone seating had been set up in lieu of the traditional furniture.  Even the theatre staff had a spring in their step, and were dressed for the occasion in costumes befitting the backdrop.  A few of them in passing were kind enough to show an appreciation for Toby’s own costume, which only added to his enthusiasm.

There was more ivy hung about the theatre, and the curtain was a grayish green, as if to reflect stone and moss.  Sarah and Toby found their seating – front and center and three rows up to be on level with the stage.

The lights dimmed.  The murmur of conversation around them rippled and grew silent.  Toby stilled beside her.  The curtain raised.  The actress took the stage, and embarked upon her narration.

Sarah found herself mouthing the words.

It wouldn’t be the last time that evening. 

There was a faint pang of nostalgia in her chest as Sarah watched the familiar plot unfold.  Along with a feeling of déjà vu.  But there was something more – a feeling that something was off.  That things weren’t quite _right_.

More than once, she found herself distant.  Distracted.  _Detached_.

As though she were watching a dream.

But then, the players on the stage had honed their performances to a perfected edge.  The audience was swept off into the twists and turns, the drama and intrigue.  The push and pull between a human princess and the King of the Goblins.

It was all part of the magic.

And then it was curtain call, and the characters were simply actors again.  They smiled and bowed as the audience cheered, Toby cheering right along with them in the seat beside her.

For a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade.  The noise and the light grew distant as the King of the Goblins met her gaze.  He smiled at them from the stage, before returning his attention to the rest of the ecstatic crowd surrounding them.

The curtain fell.

Sarah jolted as Toby grabbed her arm.

He was smiling too, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

Other patrons were already shuffling out of their seats.  Some were talking in the aisles, most were taking to the exits.

Making their way through the thinning crowd, Sarah headed down the aisle towards the door that led backstage.  Holding on to her hand, Toby followed in her wake.

***

Behind the scenes, the goblins were relaxed and jovial, if still riding the high of the production.  Half in costume and makeup, half laid-back and half high-strung.  Sarah caught wisps of conversation as she moved through the backstage.

Across the dressing room floor, she caught her mother’s attention.  Linda rose from her chair and swept towards her to pull her into an embrace.  She barely spared Toby half a glance.

“What did you think?” she asked she asked Sarah.

“It was perfect.  I think there’s only so far you can improve once you’ve got it down so well.”

Linda rolled her eyes at her daughter’s answer.  “I thought we was rusty as hell.”  Her tone shifted, and she smiled.  “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves.  I’m surprised you came... I thought you’d been sick of this show by the end of its run.”

As they caught up, Toby’s hand slipped out of hers.  Sarah glanced after him as he jingled off, but at his age she’d had the run of the backstage, and these players were practically extended family.

The conversation rambled through how Sarah was and what she’d been doing, and the producers snagging on the little details higher up versus the reality of stage production.  Sarah listened, following along until, beneath the murmur surrounding them,  another voice drifted to her ear.  Crystal clear, it had her full attention.

“Why, hello.”

Turning her head, Sarah found, amidst the unhurried bustle, the King of the Goblins knelt on eye level with her brother.

“Toby, is it?” he asked.  “Would you like to see a magic trick?”

There was a twinge in her chest.

Not quite _nostalgia_ this time.

“Sarah?”

Sarah blinked.

“Sorry, I, ah...”  She inclined her head towards the pair, excusing herself from the conversation.  “I should be getting him home.”

“Oh, of course.”  Linda hugged her again, her fingers trailing across Sarah’s shoulder as she stepped away.  “Love you, darling.  Say _hello_ to Robert for me.”

Sarah made her way across the room to collect Toby, arriving just in time for the flourish and a coin appearing out of nowhere.  Caught up in the act, Toby gave a boyish giggle.  Beaming, he looked up at her.

So, too, did the King of the Goblins.

Smiling, the latter rose to his feet.

Despite the costume, there was nothing about him that was frightening.  It was only Jeremy.  Reaching for Sarah’s shoulder, he leaned in to kiss her cheek cordially.

“Wonderful to see you again, my dear.”

She nodded, smiling faintly back.  She knew he meant it.

With that, Jeremy took his leave.  Sarah watched him join her mother at one of the vanities.  Pulling free his wig, he ran his fingers through his hair.

She glanced down at Toby when he grabbed her sleeve, trying to show her the coin.

 

By the time they had gotten to the lobby, Toby’s enthusiasm had begun to wane.  Slowing stare up at one of the glitzy cardboard stand-ups, his face pinched into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

“I wish the Labyrinth was real.”

Her mouth opened to reply, but there was no sound.  Sarah licked her lip instead, eyeing the glitzy promotion.  Her hand came to rest on Toby’s shoulder, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“It doesn’t have to be real,” she assured him, echoing what Jeremy had once told her.  “It can still be magic.”

***

The theatre was empty, and the lights were dim.

She was sitting alone, facing the stage.  If she closed her eyes, she could see the pale shadows of the players, dancing through the motions.  If she opened them, there was only the still backdrop.

A veil of darkness had been draped over everything.  It tinted the periphery of her vision, and stilted the ambience.  In the distance, it simply existed, as though existence itself stopped short.

Standing, Sarah made her way to the aisle and down towards the stage.  When she closed her eyes again, there was a fleeting flicker of grey, feathering the corner of the stage.

But no one was there.

Neither, she found, was there anyone backstage.  Costumes had been discarded haphazardly across the floor.  Her mother’s elegant gown was draped over the back of a vanity chair.

A creaking sound wound through the empty, still space.  Following it, Sarah found the basement access door was ajar...

Sarah stood at the top of the stairs, staring down into the dark.

...there should have been nothing down there, except maintenance and storage.

She couldn’t see anything past the first couple of stairs.  She clicked the light on, but its ambiance faded into the darkness.

A creeping unease welled up within her.  The theatre was already fading behind her when she took the first step, then the next, and the next that appeared dimly below that one.  Soon, she was rushing down the stairs.

A storm-grey light washed over her from below, the stairs came apart, and she fell.

 

Sarah lifted her head from her pillow.

Without bothering with the light, she reached instead for her journal where it should have been on the nightstand.  Naturally, it wasn’t.

After checking the drawer, Sarah sighed and got up to make her way to her study.

 

Her journal waited on the desk where she had left it.  She recorded her latest dream, describing as best as she could remember.  Then, flipping back several pages, she read back an entry where she’d been trapped in darkened, fittingly enough labyrinthine corridors that sprawled infinitely nowhere.

Or so it had seemed in the dream.

Blinking out of her reverie, Sarah stood and stretched, and reached to turn out the lamp.

Something shimmered on the surface of her desk, grabbing her attention.  She squinted at it, and reached to pick it up.  Recognizing it, she sighed, and smiled wryly.

“Toby.”

He’d left his magic coin.

She started to put it back – of a mind that she could get it back to him later.  Then she _saw_ it.  It wasn’t a typical half-dollar.  On one side was a majestic castle, and on the other...

Her eyes narrowed at the embossed portrait, shimmering with accents of silver and gold.

Tucking her journal under her arm, she headed for her bedroom.  To get dressed, rather than to return to sleep.

***

The backstage couldn’t have been called _tidy_ , but it was as close as any dressing room got.  All of the costumes had been packed away.  The decorations and the advertisements from the _Labyrinth_ had been packed into one corner.  One standee in particular – the King of the Goblins – stared smugly at her from its own corner as Sarah stepped lightly through the room.

For Sarah to say _it felt like it was watching her_ was a foregone conclusion, but she did her best to ignore it.  Striding to the basement door, she reached for the doorknob...

...and paused.

Turning back, she eyed the room.  Her gaze skimmed off the mirrors, and lingered on the King of the Goblins, but there was no one there.

Sarah’s mouth thinned.

This was stupid.

Again, she reached for the doorknob.  The door creaked open, revealing stairs leading into the basement darkness as she pulled it open.

There, she hesitated.

“I wouldn’t,” a voice told her, matter-of-fact.  “Not if I was you.”

Sarah jumped and spun around, startling in turn the person who had spoken.  He looked her up and down, as though realizing who it was he was talking to, amazement evident in his features.  He managed to stifle it, glancing off as though disinterested.  Casually, he dragged himself up onto one of the dressing room chairs.

“Huh,” he surmised.  “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Sarah took a brief few moments longer to come to her senses.

“I’m dreaming,” she told herself.  As though she simply hadn’t woken up from the last dream as she thought she had, and she was still dreaming.

“Are you, now?”

Sarah’s expression said it all.  She _wasn’t_ dreaming, and she knew it.  She blinked, glancing at the darkness beyond the door, and tried to click the light on to no avail.

“Do you know what’s down there?”

The question dragged her gaze away again.  Sarah chewed her lip.

“Don’t I?”

“Maybe I ought to say _who_.”

“Are you trying to scare me, Hoggle?”

“Scare you?”  Hoggle scoffed.  “ _You_ don’t _scare_.”

Bracing her nerves, Sarah took the first step, then the next.  Then stopped again.

“Suit yourself,” Hoggle told her.

“You’re not coming with me, I take it?”

“No.  I’m not.”

Quieter, as the darkness of the stairwell beyond engulfed her, she heard – or imagined she heard – Hoggle speaking to himself.

“Not for _him_ , I’m not.”

Reaching into her bag, she found her flashlight by touch and clicked it on.  Its light didn’t give her much more to go on, but trailing her hand along the wall as she went, she descended.

Eventually, the stairs began to spiral.

As the light from the dressing room faded, a spark of light from below began to grow.  The stairs under her feet began to bob with each step she took, and the last one drifted away.

***

It wasn’t at all the same.

Not as she dreamed it.  Not as she remembered it.

As far as the eye could see, from the ground beneath her feet to the crumbling walls and the horizon beyond was gray, as though the color had been sucked out of it.  It still held a shimmering sheen, that made it appear to be moving beneath a cloud-cast sky that roiled and twisted in on itself.

The last time she had stood on this hill, she had been a girl.  And the memory, once so crystal clear, had faded with time until only fragments remained.

Fragments that fed her dreams.  Dreams that had always seemed so harmless in her waking hours, and yet....

Sarah stood still, as if the fragile vision would break.  But the strange air she breathed filled her lungs, grounding her.  A calm wind blew through the leafless branches of the trees surrounding her, causing them to crackle and hiss.

There was no castle in the distance rising up above the walls, and even from where she stood she could see the monochrome walls crumbling under the weight of the pale vines that covered them.

The fragments of her youthful memories began to piece themselves together.

White feathers and pinching talons caused Sarah to cry out in surprise.  Without warning, the owl weighed down on her shoulder, causing her to hunch up.  It lingered, long enough for her to catch her racing heart.

She scowled at it darkly.

It shifted its weight between talons, but didn’t seem dissuaded from its perch.  It regarded her coldly.

The owl took wing again, launching deep into the sky.

Sarah watched it fly off, towards the ruin.  Until it vanished into a speck.  Most of the remaining light seemed to disappear along with it.  Leaving her with neither answers, nor the right questions.

Her dreams...

Whatever was happening here...

Sarah grit her teeth. 

“Jareth!”

Whatever he was up to, she wasn’t going to play this game.

“Answer me!”

He didn’t.  Her voice echoed eerily in the distance.

Pulling her journal from her bag, Sarah flipped through the pages.  There was no way out, but the Labyrinth sprawled below.

The Goblin King had a lot of answer _for_.

***

She didn’t meet a single soul traversing the Labyrinth.

Thorny vines had covered the walls, replete with white roses that budded but none that bloomed.  The paths shifted and changed as she walked, familiar in an unfamiliar way.  More than once, it seemed that the rose vines were thickly overgrown to the point of forging the path ahead, not the Labyrinth itself.

But always, the open path led towards the center.

Until it didn’t.

Then it became a game of déjà vu.

Frowning, Sarah pulled the journal from her bag.

The wall wasn’t covered in thorns in her dream, but the door was on the ledge above.  Stowing her dream journal once more, Sarah set to carefully picking her way up the overgrowth.  Several of the vines were thick enough to avoid the thorns.  Here, there wasn’t a _door_ , but the arch was clear.

And, as always, the only open path led towards the center.

***

It was as far as she had ever gotten in her dreams.  The forest path that ought to have led to the Goblin City and the Castle beyond.  As she grew closer, devastation blanketed the landscape. 

The city had crumbled, practically to dust, indistinguishable from the junkyard that bordered its walls.  Where the castle should have been, stood a ruin of broken walls, fallen bricks, and tiles.  And everywhere, thorny grey vines crept over and under, twisting this way and that.

The sheer emptiness was crushing.

The path forward, however, was clear.  Hanging in space, a path of stepping stones led their way upwards, into the dusky, tumultuous clouds.  They were wide enough to step on, and held her weight from one to the next.  A few steps felt shaky, or too distant from one to the next, but Sarah persevered.  She could feel the energy throbbing, only slightly out of rhythm with her heart in her chest.

Her eyes were on the thunderous mix of light and shadow above, and taking a breath, she heaved herself up from the last step...

...and fell into the sky.

***

Sarah hadn’t dreamed this place.

Silver-and-gold laced the white marble platforms and pillars surrounding her, hanging amidst storm-grey clouds.  The delicate threads brought to mind climbing flowers, in various stages of bloom.

Something slithered around the furthest column out of sight, scuffing against the floor as though dragged.  A faint shadow passed over her; this time Sarah didn’t jump as the owl came to rest on her shoulder.

Instead she tensed as a dry laughter like dead leaves rasped all around her.

_Thissss isss your champion, Goblin King?_

The owl settled, its talons catching on the strap that held her bag where they dug into her.  From the corner of her eye, she found it staring directly at her.

Laughter again, more deeply than before.

The creature lumbered forward.  Salamander-like, its body was vines and thorns, and its eyeless head, pale white, resembled nothing short of a giant snapdragon.  It screeched a challenge, and charged straight for her.

Sarah lunged out of the way.  The owl launched another direction.

The creature’s swipe caught the strap, snapping it.  Her bag slipped from her shoulder, and spilled across the floor.  Her journal, keychain...

Toby’s coin glinted in the light, _glowing_ with a power all its own.

She didn’t have time to wonder.  The flower-headed beast lumbered for Sarah again, and she dodged further away.  While the creature was occupied with her, the owl landed amidst the fallen clutter.

She _wasn’t_ dreaming.

Sarah steeled her nerves.

Heroes didn’t lose.

That wasn’t the way things were.

Sarah ducked under the next swipe,

Her hand closed around the coin, and she was on her feet.

Sarah froze, and her eyes flicked upward.

Time seemed to hold its breath.

Four rose-thorn claws cut into her back.  Eyes wide, she stumbled into his arms.  His fingers dug into her arms; hers clenched tighter over the coin, smothering its light.

Jareth’s eyes narrowed.  Then was looking past her.  Blearily, she followed his gaze.

From where her blood dripped from its thorns, the grey vines turned green.  The color traveled across its body, and the monster screeched as a rust seeped into its white face.  Lashing back and forth, it retreated as far away from them as it could, toppling columns as it went.

The figment of reality surrounding them ruptured, and the world crumbled.

Jareth flew.

Bereft of wings, Sarah fell.

***

She landed heavy on the ground.

The castle was still a ruin, and an upturned flagstone dug into her back.  But the earth had turned to brown, and the vines had turned to green, and every last white bud had bloomed, in shades of dark red and the sunset.

Sarah struggled to roll over, and dragging herself upright to fold her knees beneath her.  The pain she felt was nothing worse than bruises and scrapes... and the bricks and pavers, slates and stones, too, had regained their color.

“Did you like it?”

Jareth’s voice was soft.  To the edge of exhaustion.

Sarah cast about, until she found him.  He had sprawled himself over a smattering of brick that almost held together in the form of a chair.  Despite how tired he appeared, he toyed with a crystal with a deftness that made even the best actors and showmen appear second-rate.  Somehow, he managed to make it look altogether dignified.

“I thought it was a bit trite, myself.”  There was a dry chuckle in his throat, that didn’t quite make it past his lips.  “Though I admit, it did get a bit out of hand in the end.”

Pushing herself to her feet, Sarah brushed herself off.

Between one heartbeat and the next, so quickly Sarah had to imagine that she’d dreamt it, Jareth’s expression changed from distant admiration to something far more stern.  The crystal rolled from the tips of his fingers into his palm as he sat up straighter.

“You have something of mine,” he told her.  “I should very much like it back now.”

“And you don’t have something of mine?”

Jareth blinked at her, hand casually curled inward over the crystal.

“What.  This?”

“Do you propose a trade?”

“It would only be fair, wouldn't it?”

The Goblin King scoffed.

Between one moment and the next, he had disappeared.  Sarah spun on her heel; finding him behind her, she backed up a step.

She held out the coin.

Jareth reached out his hand, and it vanished in a flash of light.  He breathed deeply, and glanced at their surroundings, before offering her the crystal in the palm of his hand.

She reached for it tentatively.

Then he moved his hand to slight her, and she grabbed for it much more decisively.  But not without his fingers trailing against the bottom of her wrist.

Sarah cupped the crystal between her palms.  It was a wisp of a thing, barely _tangible_ for something that held such clarity.  She watched in reflection as Jareth raised his hands, and all around them, the brick and stone and slate reshaped itself.

In barely three breaths, she was standing in the Goblin King’s throne room.  Jareth gave a small, overdramatic sigh.  “There now, that’s much better.”

“I never saw you.”

Jareth’s attention was drawn back to her.

“Of course you didn’t.  Would you honestly had come if I said ‘please’?”

Sarah’s mouth set in a thoughtful line.  “Maybe.”

“Such certainty.  I’m touched, truly.”

A flush of anger colored her cheeks.  Sarah’s mouth opened, and she huffed.

Draping himself once more, this time across a proper throne, Jareth offered her an expression that suggested he was listening intently.  _Sarcastically_ , but intently.

Finally, she managed, “You _used_ me.”

“Oh, please.”

Her glare didn’t fade.  Nor did the amusement behind Jareth’s _not quite_ a smile.

At length, Sarah tore her gaze away from him, and looked around.  She scrubbed her face with a hand, and cleared her throat.

And again.

It took her an absurd amount of time to find the right question to ask, and how to ask it.  “How do I get home?”

Eyebrows raising, Jareth regarded her coolly.

“Pity.  I thought you might have wanted to stay this time.”

With a flick of his wrist, Jareth indicated to her a door that hadn’t been there a moment ago.  It was wide and heavy, and deeply weatherworn.

And, she found upon reaching it, locked.

After no amount of pushing, pulling, or shoving made any difference, Sarah fell back a step.

Frustration honed a stern edge of her voice.

“Jareth.”

“Hrrm?”

Having started to turn, Sarah realized that he had materialized directly behind her.  She rolled her eyes as she followed it through, crossing her arms.

“The door.”

“What of it?”

Staring up at him, Sarah didn’t budge.

“Oh, now don't tell me you've gotten yourself into something you can't get yourself out of?”

Jareth smirked at her expression.  His knuckles rang hollow on the wood above her head.  It echoed strangely, but for several long moments, nothing else happened.  Then the door creaked open behind her.

 _Thank you_ , she mouthed sarcastically, before slipping through.

***

Sarah found herself standing outside of the theatre.  Hoggle blinked at her sudden presence, sat up straighter against the wall, and got to his feet.

“It’s about time you got back.”

Sarah glanced down at him as he hurried to her side.

“Not like you were worried or anything.”

Hoggle snorted.

“Not in the least,” he assured her.  Then his voice grew quieter.  “Not... um... _quite_ how you remembered it, huh?”

Sarah started to agree, but the tone in her throat deepened to a frustrated groan as she patted down her side.

“Something wrong?”

“My keys,” she said.  “I... left my keys.  In fantasy land.”

Along with her bag, and everything in it.

“Right.  I’ll, uh... I’ll walk you home.”

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck, but she was smiling.

“Always the proper gentleman.  Thanks, Hoggle.”

***

Fortunate for the hour, Sarah settled for breaking into her own apartment through an open window.  Hoggle had taken his leave at the end of the driveway, and though she spared a quick glance, she could no longer see him.

Kicking out of her shoes, she padded to the kitchen and clicked on the light.  Halfway to the sink with a glass from cupboard, she stopped short.

Her journal sat on the kitchen table, with her keys on top of it.  The flashlight stood upright beside them.  Her bag, with its torn strap re-sewn, had been draped over the back of a chair.

A bundle of flowers, sunset roses and bloodstained snapdragons, had been left on the table along with the rest.

Sarah got her drink, then filled the glass again.  She set the flowers in water; leaving them on the table, she took her journal with her back to her bedroom.

 

Beside the bed, she pulled the nightstand drawer open, only to pause.  She swallowed, and turned the journal over in her hands, feeling the texture of the cover beneath her fingertips.  There wasn’t much worth to it, now was there?

Sarah scoffed.  She let the book slip into the drawer

“I couldn’t keep you out of my life if I wanted to, could I?”

“And do you want to?”

Sarah started; her head jerked up, and she caught the reflection in the window a moment before she thought it might have been better to look away.

His fingers hovered above the back of her neck, not quite a touch.  She could feel his warmth.  If she turned, he’d be gone.  If she told him to leave, he’d leave.  If she told him to stay....

As it was, she didn’t answer.  Stubbornly.

“Didn’t we learn this lesson the first time?” he chided.  “We can’t have everything, we have to choose.”

Sarah’s eyes drifted closed as the warmth of his fingers trailed down her back.  Behind her, Jareth sighed.

“You don't belong here, you know.  Sooner or later, I hope you see that.”

His presence faded.

When Sarah opened her eyes, Jareth’s reflection was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I think the little details of Sarah's family come from the novelization? But I've never read it, so all the characterization I got here is extrapolated from the little background details of the movie. I hope they come through okay.
> 
> *ahem* At any rate, I hope you like enjoy this little adventure. :)


End file.
